Differents
by Esprit D'escalier
Summary: Discontinued. Sama is a fifteen year old natural pretty. She is the third natural pretty her age. Why are natural pretties breaking out everywhere, and why is she so different from them? Attention: Story will not be updated any longer.


**My first Uglies story. ...Um. It's Mystery/Science-Fiction, as is the actual Uglies book. It does (er, um, willcough) have characters from the books in it. Don't expect updats often, and review if you want to. Constructive criticism is welcome.**

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Sama stepped out of bed. She programmed the machine to give her some nice black clothes, changed into them, and headed off to breakfast.

She didn't notice, or rather, she didn't care that her hair hadn't been brushed (not that she needed to), and that she wasn't wearing any socks. She had her gloves on though, which was one of only quite a few signs that she had snuck out last night.

Sama lined up in the cafeteria line and waited as it slowly moved forward. The person behind her would occasionally push her whenever she didn't move up.

"What would you like for breakfast, Miss Sama?" asked the friendly computer voice.

Sama jumped at how close the sound was to her ear. All voices were really loud to her, but it was probably just her. Sama mumbled out: "Ha...?"

The computer started listing off the choices to Sama, who only just zoned out even more. Her head eventually nodded down to look at an ant crawling on the floor, and the computer, somewhat desperately for a machine, took this as a yes. Sama grabbed whatever was infront of her and sat down at the closest table nearby.

Which happened to be the table that the twin natural pretties sat at.

"Hey, Squint, what are you doing sitting at _this_ table. You never sit here. No matter what the leaders say, you're not a natural pretty." Yara, or Pretty face #1, said to Sama.

Sama got up and walked outside with her lunch. What Yara had said hadn't hurt her; she just didn't want to sit with them. Besides, everything was so cool looking out here, today at least.

Sama sat down and stared out at the forest surrounding her city.

Sama was also a natural born pretty, but a different type of pretty than Yara and Mayla. She had to agree with them on one thing, though; she didn't belong at that table.

The table was especially reserved for the three pretties, and anyone they invited over, which was no one.

Sama's eyes were more slanted than theirs, giving her the nickname 'Squint'. Her eyes always seemed to have an evil glint in them. People still thought them to be pretty, but scary pretty.

Sama was great at sports, and art, and everything she did, which wasn't something natural pretties were expected to do. She could always get any ball to its destination, and could always find something that looked out of place in her artwork.

Her fingernails were always long, but they never grew too long. They just stopped growing at a certain length, which was still too long for Sama. She cut them constantly, but they grew back within minutes. Eventually she just gave up on trying to cut them; they were impossibly hard, as if she had put eight coats of nail hardener on them.

She healed quickly too. She had never broken a bone for longer than a day, and she had broken bones quite a lot.

Her hair was a medium brown, her eyes were silverish, her skin was perfect, her muscles were incredibly strong, yet not overly humungous.

To sum it up, she was evilly perfect.

Which sort of sucked, but was sort of cool. Everyone avoided her, because they expected her to be like most natural pretties. Stuck up. Snobby. Rich. The other people, who were not as dense as everyone else, noticed that she wasn't like Yara and Mayla, but still stayed away from her unless they had to.

She didn't quite know why people didn't like her, but she knew about Yara and Mayla. The only reason they were rich is because they had to get more money to pay to keep them pretty. Usually it was from the government. They kept any natural pretty rich. Sama wasn't rich though. No one had even known she was pretty until she was about twelve. Her Nana had always said that being a pretty would mean people would treat her differently, that they would worship her, but no one would want to be her friend.

Which was probably the worst fate for Sama. Sama's Nana wasn't related to her. Sama never knew who her real parents were, although she knew that her Nana knew who they were. Sama had heard her once, on one of the days where her hearing had been louder than normal.

She had heard her Nana whispering to herself, as she did quite often now. She had been talking about someone, wondering why she had left Sama with her, even though _she_ knew she was done with the specials. Well, Sama had assumed that it was a she, at least. Sama had never understood what she had meant for sure on the phone, but she was positive it was referring to her.

Sama looked down at what she was eating: Spaghetti Bolognese... Yum. She sighed and stood up, leaving her untouched lunch on the ground.

It was time to go hoverboarding.

-Ugly- +Pretty+ "Special" (Extra)

I ride through the trees. They fly at me whatever which way I turn. I bounce off a branch, and as I ride past it I hear it crack. Oops. That's the bad thing about how I ride: I always end up skimming against trees, or even worse, hitting them. This problem would probably never be evident if I actually took the same route more than once. That was no fun though. At least this way I had to pay attention

Paying attention was never a problem for me though (most of the time), except in the mornings, in which case I could, and occasionally would (proof: this morning), do something stupid; usually without knowing I was doing it.

I pull up as I see three trees clumped together up ahead. I am now riding over the tops of the trees, and I can see almost everything from here. I see new pretty town far away to my left, just out of the corner of my eye.

It is a beautiful site, and I can't wait 'til I get to go there. Everyone there will be "pretty" like me, and maybe that means I won't be an outcast. Well, among people that aren't my age maybe I won't be an outcast. The people my age will know who I am.

Someday I will there. Actually, about 100 days from now I will be there. I quickly do the math in my head. Huh, exactly one hundred days until my birthday.

I dip my board down into the trees and I start to think about my birthday. What do I do on my birthday? Do I just head on over there? I don't need the operation...

Well, maybe I can-

**WHAP **

I fly off of my hoverboard and land on the needle-prickled ground. _That _had_ **hurt**. _I look up at the stupid tree and prepare to yell at it like usual, but there's no tree in front of me. There's one a bit to the right of me, and I automatically assume that to be it.

I go up to it and start yelling at it. I kick it. "Stupid tree!"

"Uh..."

I give it a few rude hand gestures, and instinctively use my right hand like a claw to attack it. Five scraps of bark, each one about as think as my fingers, fall off onto the ground. I look down at my left hand and I am beyond belief when I see that my fingernails have just about tripled in length.

"Wha- how- how did you do that?"

I turn and I stare dumbfounded at a boy about my age. Just at that moment my hoverboard decides to come back down to me, and so does his. It's just then that I realize that it was him I had collided with, not the tree. Oops. I had wasted all my energy on the tree when I could have been using it on him.

I go to hop onto my hoverboard to get away from him, but my fingernails are stuck in the tree. I yank them out.

I then hop onto my hoverboard and stare down at my hands in amazement. "What's wrong with me...?" I murmur to myself, and I then realize that I am still floating near the boy. I fly off through the trees.

"Wait!" The boy shouts back at me. I turn back to glance at him, and then turn around again and pull above the trees.

My face feel flushed, and I almost feel like I'm crying. That's not possible though. I've never cried, and I doubt I will start now. I can't force myself to cry, and I've never cried over anything before, no matter how sad I am.

I've always heard that crying brings relief, but I have never felt that feeling. Sometimes I feel like it's unfair. But it's always unfair; life's always been unfair to me.

There is only one person who could know what is wrong with me, and that's my Nana.

There's something she's not telling me, and I've got to find out what.


End file.
